Some Thoughts on Forcing it.....

I was determined to do some approaching. Not sure why, but sometimes, as I've gotten in the habit of being social when I'm out, I'll realize I'm spending the night in observation mode and not "pursue ass to potentially nail" mode......at any rate, this is what usually happens: having already scanned the room and monitored any new influx of tail, I opt for a semi-easy approach. This is the blowback beginning at inception. If there was a girl I was actually attracted to, I would have already done an approach. As it is, the fact that I'm doing it now, possibly 20 min's later, is a fail in motion before it ever began.

I open the girl. She sucks. I'm amazed at how good I am at predicting these things, fuck Kreskin. He doesn't deserve to suck my dick and get some of what I'm packin'. At any rate, she sucks. Her friend is usually tolerable...and ten min's later I eject not b/c I'm blown out, but b/c listening a girl talk about politics or some sociology bullshit ranks somewhere above a buzzsaw to my dick or a BFG pointed up my ass. So much for whatever statistic says more women than ever are products of higher education.

When you stop and ask yourself something....it gets kinda disheartening. Meeting a girl with whom you have pleasant conversation feels almost as old school as Leave it to Beaver or I Love Lucy. What happened to the cheery attitudes of women like my mom? My mom's had a virtual laundry list of things that should make her bitter and vitriolic...and yet, she's far nicer and kinder and pleasant to be around than all these chicks that claim they "have so much going for" them.....and that somehow, men are *cough cough* intimidated by that.....
When you roll with your heart on your sleeve the way I do....I have categorically low success with chicks I'm not into....problem being....unless I'm balls drunk....I'm actually pretty selective. I've just been good at nailing the girls I'm attracted to that I meet when sober. Go figure.

Topping off the weekend's classy festivities.... some grimey married chicks wanted to grind up on my johnson and my buddy's while some trainwreck latched onto his arm. Then a chick from my ****** came on to me, but prefaced it with, "I'd **** you but my ******* friend has a crush on you." Add that my seeing an ***** girl who took me back to her friend's penthouse for some in n' out however long ago I can't remember...and it was a weekend of mediocrity and humor.
Blah blah fuckin' blah.

Ah, the inevitability of predictability.

-With less than considerable affection